So we meet again... (a merthur au)

Not Mere Coincidence

For Arthur, the notion of "soulmates" was stupid and childish. That is, until he met a boy at the pub named Emrys.

...

It was like deja vu, only it felt much harder to put a finger on-- when the gangly boy walked into the room and took a seat at the back as though he owned it, Arthur took a look up into the mirror behind the bar and looked back. They had made eye contact, holding it for several seconds before the black-haired boy scrunched his mouth in distaste and leaned his head back against the booth seat.

Arthur didn't believe in soulmates, but he did believe that certain people act as a sort of magnet, drawing people into their vicinity for reasons inexplicable. The look of familiarity when the blue eyes in the mirror indirectly met his was stirring, not sexually of course, but in the way of being off putting. He bought another drink, watching as the figure moved his head to the side and glancing at the door before making the seemingly-painstaking task of removing himself from the seat and out the door into the night air of London.

Arthur looked at his glass, eyeing the liquor in it before turning to watch the door. A figure walked in, slinking through the door like a serpent before taking a seat beside Arthur.

"You seem out of it, mate. What's up?" The man asked, ordering a drink of his own. "Look like you seen a ghost."

"Can I ask something crazy?" Arthur watched the mirror again, half expecting to see that face looking back at him.

"Any crazier than that whole bit about the, what was it again, the Reðasafn?" The man asked, badly masking a smirk.

"Have you ever felt like you met someone before? Not at a party or something, but you just catch a glimpse of someone and you can't help but think you know that person?" Arthur asked, looking at his drink in dismay.

After a few moments, he still found his friend staring at him with an odd look on his face.

"Some girl has gotten to you, innit? Planted some thought in ya head that you're soulmates or some shite like that? Don't tell me ye've fallen for that, Artie. Then I 'll 've lost all respect fer ya." The man chortled, continuing, "Let me guess, ya made some eye contact, ya? Then she waltzes out the room like a bloody fuckin' queen, right? It's psychology, Arthur. Prolonged eye contact makes ya think yer on an intimate level with someone. You don't even listen to Morrison, do ya?"

"This was different." Arthur insisted, but after thinking the better of it, decided to forget the whole mess. Forget the boy. Must've just been some socially awkward twat who can't keep his eyes off a specimen like Arthur when he sees one.

After that, Arthur didn't think about the boy again. Not until morning.

...

Arthur had gotten halfway to work on the tube Friday morning when he realized he forgot the keys to the office at home. He texted his cubicle neighbor and asked her to let him in once she arrived.

He was supposed to be one of the first ones in, but after alerting HR of the situation, the representative told him (in great disdain) to walk around until his cubemate arrived and to make up the half hour by staying late. He agreed without complaint, having an excuse to walk from the tube instead of sprinting all the way to work like he usually did.

The walk was a pleasant one, through a quaint shopping district outside central London, the trees casting soft shadows on the pavement below. Up ahead several paces, he saw a boy with black hair, ears protruding slightly from the side of his head, and a lithe frame. Arthur, knowing better than to sneak up on a stranger, walked faster and faster until he was only a few steps behind. He slowed his gait once he noticed the boy had in headphones. So that was why he didn't turn around, Arthur realized.